In the oven this morning are my version of rugula, those filled little pastries we think of for holidays. Our Rosh HaShanah dinner is already passed, but there are plenty of other times to enjoy them during this new year week. Ah! There goes the timer. Be right back.
Hm. Though
well-filled, they came a little flat…my fault for letting the pastry get too
warm as I put them together. All that raisin, honey, apple and cinnamon inside smells delicious. When they cool, I’ll cut them up hoping the
slices hold together. (I’m sure they will get eaten anyway.)
Home baking like mine is one thing…not likely to get farther
than my own kitchen and table, unless I have to bring something to a
potluck. But out there are those who can
really be called “Bakers”, busy in their own kitchens making wonderful breads and
desserts as a calling and a vocation. Lately, I've been thinking about them.
I.
In Paris, I am particularly fond of the almond croissants and
breads at the Le Pan au Naturel. It's diagonally across from the
Catacombs, where I would never go, and around the corner from the Marche’
DaGuerre, where I would usually head for cheeses and fruits, etc., the stuff of
picnics in the Tuilleries or Parc Luxembourg.
But a few weeks ago one morning, four thousand
miles west across the Atlantic, on my way back from delivering my
neighborhood's generous bags for PORCH's pantry, I took a little detour through
Carrboro and found a morning croissant even better (sorry, you
Francophiles...but it's true). In a charming, airy, open place were curls of lightness
alongside little sweet pastries and creams, coffee breads, elongated filled
bagels (the new thing), and cookies.
Even Dough (named because dough is mostly an even way of
baking) is the new kitchen of Chef Meitel, whose began as a home baker,
specializing in French pastries. In her earliest days in business, one
had to find her online, by accident or through word-of-mouth. Last year, she found a home on one of the
trendiest streets in Carrboro with enough space for her bigger following, and
renovated it extensively, continuing online sales from there.
It wasn't long, however, before, as Meitel admitted,
"People would come in and tell me, 'You need to open a café here!'"
So she did. My friend Jim (Francophile of all
Francophiles), her champion all along, enthusiastically alerted his
Gaulic-inclined friends. That PORCH morning
seemed perfect for a treat and a chance to see what the cafe offered.
You can take your drink and whatever you couldn’t do without to one of the tables inside or outside to the open leafy patio. As early in the morning as you get there, lines form right behind you.
The sloping ramps to the door and patio are a gift for people like me, as well as people not like me, mothers with strollers, customers on crutches, shoppers with bundles and tired walkers...one each of whom joined me that morning.
II.
Now, it happens that Meitel’s journey toward this adventure
is one that my sister Mary Ellen has just begun. She, too, has begun a
home bakery, Mimi Bakes Best, certified to offer her desserts by order or at
pop-ups at the local fresh-air markets. Part of my pleasure in seeing Even
Dough was imagining Mary Ellen's future, too.
As I sat there, I thought of the parallels. Mary Ellen doesn't do French pastries, but she's is in another town where people appreciate a good dessert, or an oatmeal or chocolate cookie in the afternoon, or a carrot or zucchini bread in the morning. She also fills orders for birthday cakes and holiday pies, using pure, often organic ingredients.
She loves learning what people like and already has her fans...people who find her by word-of-mouth or taste-of-mouth quickly become part of that club.
Culinary magic happens generation by generation. It certainly happened to Mary Ellen, who began baking early in her teens, making desserts for other, including a cake iced with crosshatching that amazed and puzzled my mother' gourmet club friends. I wish I had a photo of that!
Baking for family, with family, seems to be the key to the way home bakeries grow. It didn’t take much to imagine that Even Dough must have begun pretty much like that. On the Even Dough site, I found this note: "Meitel Cohen began her culinary journey in her grandmother's tiny, magical kitchen. "
Of course, there's more to it than genes or a chance to sit on the counter and lick the bowl, the way in my kitchen, too, bakers begin.
I'm pretty sure that Meitel would tell my sister what she already knows: it's not a quick road without a few lumps and messes and a lot of hard work. But there are so many triumphs along the way.
Home bakeries, like cottage industries of all kinds, take a
certain courage and know-how, not to mention stamina, flexibility, and a
willingness to see a little further along the way. Yet, look around at
the independence fostered in that arena, the individualism that elbows aside
the more common, standard wares, the pride on the invisible part of the label
that pronounces, "I made that." I'm always amazed at those values
that produce talent we can enjoy the fruits of.
Here's wishing those dedicated bakers a vision of the road
ahead that brings for them and their customers a sweet success.
And a sweet new year
to you all.
One sliced nicely;
the other crumbs a bit…and sure enough, they were finished by afternoon tea.
Street by street I was passed, coming and going, by young women and men
jogging before class or work. Most returned my good morning as
they zipped on; only a few, probably new around here, seem startled
by the greeting, managing only a crimped smile. My neighbors and I try
our best to socialize them, though it's amazing that at 19 or 20 they haven't
been taught better...see a neighbor, say hello.
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